


The Dragon Pit Council

by LadyLaurel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, My First Fanfic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19396237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaurel/pseuds/LadyLaurel
Summary: “I thank you for the offer, Lord Tyrion, but I cannot be king of anything. I am the Three Eyed Raven.”A fix it for S8E6 - because having a good story is not a good enough reason to choose a king.





	1. His New Leathers

“Lord Baratheon looks well in his new leathers you gave him”, Bran said, absently. 

Arya turned and saw Gendry walking toward the meeting tent on the platform in the Dragon Pit. He was accompanied by Ser Davos and Ser Brienne - the party representing the Stormlands. Davos was speaking to Gendry, whose face was stony and serious. A mask, she realized as she studied him closely, not unlike her own, though she was better at it. He was new to hiding his emotions, she regretted. 

“Yes,” Sansa said, “He finally looks like a proper lord”. 

And he did. He had on a black leather jerkin worn over a leather gambison. There were slashes at the shoulders through which gray fur showed through. His breeches were black suede and went down into his leather boots. The clothes fit him well, making Arya wonder how Sansa had gotten his measurements. Somehow, he looked stronger than he did even in the clothes he wore when working with steel. Stronger, but not as attractive, Arya mused, bringing to her mind the times she watched him at the forge. Those thoughts were not welcome, so she pushed them back from her mind, and turned her attention to the sword he wore. I suppose he couldn’t bring his war hammer, she thought to herself, I wonder if he made that sword. 

“You gave him leathers?”, Arya turned to Sansa. 

“It was the least I could do, given what he did for Jon”, Sansa returned. 

“What he did for Jon?” Arya looked at Sansa, confused. 

Bran answered. “The day Grey Worm was going to execute Jon, Lord Baratheon arrived with some of the Baratheon forces. He’s the one convinced Grey Worm to hold off until messages could be sent to the other Lords Paramount. It seems the two spoke quite a deal before the battle. I’m guessing to discuss the weapons for the Unsullied. Grey Worm must trust Lord Baratheon.”

Her heart leapt at the thought, Gendry had saved Jon. They would not be sitting here now, but fighting, once again, more horrors upon horrors. She shuttered internally, remembering all she had seen during the Long Night and the Sack of King’s Landing. Gendry had saved everyone, thought with a small, proud smile.

“How did I not know this?” Arya murmured. 

“You were recovering”, Sansa said.

“He’ll be a wonderful lord, don’t you agree, Arya?” She blanched a the phrase, remembering. Bran was watching Arya now, his face mostly impassive, but for a slight, knowing smile on his face. Bran must know everything that had taken place between her and Gendry, ever, she thought, though she should have known that already. He probably even knew about what she had decided that morning. Her brother’s knowledge of all her secrets unsettled her, but there was nothing to do about it. 

“Yes”, she agreed, quietly, as Gendry and his companions took their seats. She turned her head away just enough to not be able to meet Gendry’s eyes, but enough that she could still see him. He didn’t look at her. It hurt that he didn’t look at her. The image of the expression of love and adoration he had given her passed before her eyes, followed closely by his pained, heartbroken face. She had hurt him, deeply. She couldn’t expect him to look at her. 

“He looks exactly like his father when he became king,” Bran added, still watching Arya. 

“You would know better than I,” Arya answered, perturbed by the idea that her handsome, muscular blacksmith could in anyway look like that fat drunk king she had once known. Gendry is a better man, in every way, she thought. He'll be a better lord than his father had been a king.


	2. What the Bloody Title Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No way will the other kingdoms be happy with just the North getting independence.

“I thank you for the offer, Lord Tyrion, but I cannot be king of anything. I am the Three Eyed Raven.” Bran said, impassively. “Besides, there are those with far better stories than mine.”

There were sighs. “We’re back to the beginning”, said the one lord from the Reach, who sat next to Gendry. Tyrion looked chagrinned, and Arya wondered what had happened to the man Sansa had said was always so clever. Grey worm rolled his eyes, impatiently. Everyone was quiet for the moment, until Yara spoke. 

“I don’t fucking care who ends up as King, or Queen, of the Seven Kingdoms, but I made a pact with Queen Daenerys, that the Iron Islands would be autonomous, ruling as its own kingdom as it always was. She granted us free ruler as Kings or Queens of the Iron Islands.”

Arya noticed Sansa shift in her seat, and she knew what Sansa would say next. 

“The North was also once an independent kingdom. Our people have suffered enough, and they deserve to be independent once again.” 

There were grumbles from some of the other lords, and scoff from the Prince of Dorne. 

“All our lands were independent once, before Aegon the Conqueror arrived, ruled by their own kings. The Targaryens are gone now, perhaps we should return to what we all once were,” her uncle, Lord Edmure, put forth. Arya rolled her eyes. He really wanted to be a king, didn’t he?

“All that would do would turn us back, leading to more wars, more suffering”, Tyrion said. “We are trying to create something better.” 

“Fuck better,” Yara spat. “The Iron Islands were fine as they were, and stronger, and they will be again. I will not give up our rights and turn from a Queen back into a Lady”. 

The group started arguing now, and Arya grew worried as she watched Grey Worm become more and more irritated. Shouts passed back and forth between the would-be queens, with Sam, Davos and Tyrion trying to interject, and the Prince of Dorne was laughing. 

A loud “Oy!” silenced the group. “What the fuck does it matter what the bloody title is?!” 

All turned to look at the source of the outburst, the new Lord of the Stormlands. They were silent. Arya widened her eyes. She honestly hadn’t expected him to speak. Either he’d be too nervous, or, more likely, Ser Davos would have counseled against it, but apparently Gendry forget or stopped caring. He had always disdained highborns, and he wouldn’t stop now that he was one. 

“Lady, queen, warden, lord paramount, it’s all the fucking same,” Gendry kept going, irritably. Where was he going with this? It wasn’t lost on Arya that he’d begun with lady.  
There were a few chuckles, though less than when Sam Tarly had suggested the people vote for the leaders. Arya noticed Gendry bristle at that, and she hoped he wouldn’t do something stupid, like he always did. Ser Davos looked at Gendry, obviously concerned about the same. 

Edmure gave a sarcastic smile. “My dear Lord Baratheon,” he said condescendingly, “I think those of us who have ruled longer than three months – “

“Uncle,” Sansa said, looking imperiously at Edmure. Arya smirked as their uncle sniffed and was quiet.

“Doesn’t fucking matter how long I’ve ruled, it’s the truth”, Gendry continued, looking towards Edmure with eyes narrowed. “The people could give two shits what highborns call themselves. They just want to be able to put food in their children’s bellies and have a roof over their heads that doesn’t leak or let in the cold and be free and safe from war.” 

Gendry stopped, and sat back in his chair, squaring his shoulders and frowning. He is nervous, Arya realized. 

Bran smiled, broader than he normally did. It made Arya worried, and that unsettled feeling she had before returned. “What do you suggest, my lord”, Bran said, lightly, but with the sort of knowing expression that could only mean Bran already had some idea of what Gendry would say. 

Gendry looked around the council, and breathed deeply before he began, fervently. 

“Look, all the realms were always kind of independent anyways, right?” There were nods. “Lords Paramount or Wardens, or whatever, collected their own taxes and used it for their lands. They didn’t send it to the crown, the crown got money from the Crownlands and maybe some other things. All the lords really had to do was swear allegiance to the king and give him military aid when he needed it. He could make some laws for everyone, but mostly everyone just took care of themselves, which is pretty much what it means to be independent. If they ever gave the king money, it was for something that benefited everyone, like the Kingsroad.”

Gendry stopped, and furrowed his brow. Davos and Brienne looked at him with subtle smiles. They had both served one of his uncles; Arya was sure they were happy to tutor the heir to the house they had long been pledged. It made Arya glad he had allies, and she smiled, though sadly. He wanted her to be at his side, to help him. But I can’t. 

Arya looked around the council and observed that most were lost in thought. He was right, that’s how it worked. 

“Go on,” Sam said, obviously interested in where Gendry was going. 

“Well….then keep it like that, but let everyone call themselves what they fucking want. Be the Queen of the Iron Islands, be Queen in the North, “he gestured towards Yara and Sansa, “it doesn’t bloody matter. Just agree that you’ll help the King of the Seven Kingdoms sometimes. Besides, if we’re still going to have a regular council that meets all the time, then you’d get a vote instead of just dealing with what the hell everyone else is going to do. ‘Cause you know you all will go to war again if you don’t work together on shit. So take the bloody title you want, but stay together, unless you want more war.” Gendry sat back in his chair and folded his arms, his new stony mask set. 

Silence followed for a few minutes, as everyone considered this. Arya looked at Sansa, trying to make out what she was thinking, but Sansa’s face was flat. Peace was what Sansa wanted, more than anything, and she had long equated that with independence. But there would be war, guaranteed, if they became independent. It would only be a matter of time. Arya closed her eyes at that. No more war, she thought, nor more death….no more Death. 

Brienne broke the silence. “At the beginning of the War of the Five Kings, Lady Catelyn Stark came to King Renly to broker an alliance between him and the North. The night he was murdered, they had just come to an agreement. It was essentially the same plan Lord Baratheon has just suggested. The North would be independent, Robb Stark would continue to be King in the North, but still swear allegiance to the crown. I have often thought that if that alliance had been able to happen, the war would not have lasted so long, and much misery would have been prevented”. 

Yara looked to consider this. “I can agree to that, assuming everyone else does,” she spoke. There were nods all around, except for Sansa, who now became the center of attention. 

“The North will agree to that, as well.” 

Arya watched Gendry out of the corners of her eye, feeling nothing but pride. He looked proud, at having given a solution everyone could accept, but he also seemed relieved. She knew he’d been worried he’d make a fool of himself, and he hadn’t. Melancholy crept in again into Arya’s heart. He’ll be a wonderful lord…

“That still doesn’t settle who will be king”, Lord Royce said. Everyone was quiet again. Back to the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's pretty funny, and indicative of this season, that the Prince of Dorne didn't get a name, so I kept that as is.
> 
> I really cannot believe that Yara, or the Prince of Dorne, or any of the other lords, would not say something if the North demanded independence. Especially since that was promised to Yara by Dany. Had to correct that here.


	3. Qualities of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council discusses requirements for their next ruler.

“You know, it occurs to me,” Sam finally said, “Is that whoever is king should be from a house the people are familiar with. It would be good for stability.” 

He was looking pointedly at Gendry, though Gendry didn’t seem to notice. Seven hells, Arya thought, worried. 

“It should be someone familiar with the people, as well. Someone who understands their needs. This is, after all, about ending so much of their suffering”, Bran said. Arya swallowed. Gendry still hadn’t noticed. Stupid bull, she thought.

“I want it to be someone Queen Daenerys would approve of,“ Yara said. “She was queen, even if only for a time. She deserves to be followed by someone who she had planned to work with.”

“Agreed,” added the Prince of Dorne. 

Arya felt sick. She saw heads turned toward Gendry, and she looked over at him. He was shifting uncomfortably, tugging at his jerkin. He looked worried, and Arya knew he was now thinking the same thing that she was. 

“It should be someone Jon approves of, as well, someone he did work with, instead of just wanting to,” Sansa added, in a rather defiant way. “Afterall, as the legitimate son of Rhaegar Taryaryen, he should have been king before Daenerys was queen.”

For a brief moment, several of the lords looked angered by this, but it passed quickly. Such a person could be found.

Tyrion sniffed. “It should be someone that does not truly wish to rule. Someone who has no desire for glory or riches or power.”

Everyone was quiet, looking towards Gendry. Davos looked thoughtful, with a worried smile on his face, and he turned towards Gendry. Brienne smiled as well, but looked sad, too. Arya doubted they wanted to say it themselves. 

Gendry sat still as a statue, his face no doubt appearing to everyone else as still stony and serious. But she knew him, and to her, he looked as if he wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but there. He stared straight ahead, obviously trying to keep himself calm, but the anxiety and fear and self-doubt were plain on his face, at least to Arya. 

He’ll be a wonderful lord, Arya thought.

Throughout all this, Arya had kept her face blank, wearing her mask, not wanting her emotions to show and give her away. But looking at Gendry, she could not help to keep the sadness from her face. He didn’t deserve this. It’ll be hard enough to adjust to being a lord. This was too much, too dangerous. No matter how hard he worked to change everything, this was still Westeros, and there would be lords who would work against him. There was naivety to him, too, that would not serve him well. Still….

He’ll be a wonderful lord.

He was strong and kind and honorable, she knew. He was capable of the fury of his house’s words, and at those times he could be very impulsive. But, when calm, he thought through his choices, trying to be practical, trying to stay measured. That’s a skill, she felt, a good blacksmith must possess. So much to consider when forging a weapon, so much to plan for.

He’ll be a wonderful lord. 

He would have advisors, too, and not just ones working to their own ends. Davos and Brienne would be by his side, she knew. Sam, as well, most likely, who Jon loves and respects, and Tyrion, who Sansa said was a good man, one of the few she trusted. 

He’ll be a wonderful lord, but he’ll be a great king.

Barely a beat passed as all this ran through her head. She sighed, resigned, because she knew what was right. Someone just needed to say it out loud. 

“It should be Lord Baratheon”, Arya said, quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try to think of what everyone at the council would want from a ruler, given their own unique interests and allegiances, something the show did not do. It seemed obvious to me that Yara and Dorne would want someone allied with Dany, while Sansa would want someone allied with Jon. The other reasons, not wanting to rule, caring for the smallfolk, were certainly discussed in show repeatedly.
> 
> I don't find it believable that Jon's true parentage was not brought up to the other lords at some point. Varys had to have gotten one or two ravens away before Dany killed him, and neither Tyrion nor Sansa would keep it a secret after Dany's death. 
> 
> Arya nominating Gendry just seemed appropriate. Plus, after Tyrion's offer was rejected, I figured everyone would be slow to say something, even if they all had the same idea, so as not to be embarrassed.


	4. Their Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion made a slight hum. “I think we are all thinking the same as Lady Arya.”

"It should be Lord Baratheon."

At her words, Gendry turned towards Arya slowly, his hands trembling ever so slightly she doubted anyone noticed. But she knew those hands, knew how steady they were when he poured molten metal, or made steel sing with his hammer, and if they were trembling….

He looked at her, his face a mix of emotions, betrayal, anger, fear, confusion. His vulnerability was palpable to her, in a way only she could see. It was the first time they had made eye contact since the night she broke his heart. She ached knowing she was hurting him again. He hoped he saw in her face how sorry she was. 

Tyrion made a slight hum. “I think we are all thinking the same as Lady Arya.” 

“Well, I’m not sure I woul– “Lord Edmure began, but Sansa cut him off again with another look and a crisp “Uncle”. 

“Lord Baratheon,” Sansa continued, “is a hero to the North, and should be to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Not only did he cross the Wall for us and fight against the dead for us, but he made it possible for the people to defend themselves. Dragonglass had never been forged before, and the maesters thought it could not be done. He determined how. It would have taken impossibly long to chip the obsidian by hand, and we would not have been able to make enough weapons in time. Without him, no one would have survived the long night, because we would have had no way to defend ourselves. My sister is the Hero of Winterfell for slaying the Night King, but she would not have had a chance if there was no way to hold back the dead long enough for her. Lord Baratheon is brave and capable, and I believe he would be a good choice.”

“Hard working, too”, added Lord Royce. “I don’t think I ever saw him outside of the Winterfell forge, and every time I went through, day or night, he was there. So many of our kings have been content to pass on their responsibilities, to the detriment of the realm, but I do not think Lord Baratheon would. I agree, he would be a good choice.” 

“Gendry the Armorer”, Tyrion said, smiling softly. Arya rolled her eyes at that, but she imagined the epithet would stick. They would need to craft his image with the people well. 

“I thought we weren’t going to have Sons of Kings inherit anymore”, the lord next to Royce said.

“Well, he’s not really inheriting, we’re still voting,” Sam answered. “Though, we are going need time to set up a better framework for picking future kings. We need to ensure more lords, from more houses, will able to be at a council for such decisions. Far more lords should be included than there are here now. Right now, to move forward and start rebuilding, we need a king that at least the Great Houses agree to.

“Seems reasonable,” the lord said. 

“And the people do know House Baratheon,” Sam added. “Say what you will about King Robert, but other than the very short Greyjoy rebellion, we had peace for near 20 years under him. That’s not usual in our history. It’s only when Robert died that the suffering really began. People remember when a true Baratheon ruled, not lions disguised as stags. It’ll ease their fears and make the long-term changes we’re proposing more easily acceptable. And maybe we can create a way to depose a king if he proves incapable, without going to war.

“Oh, there’s also the Targaryen family connection.”

Gendry looked at Sam confused, and Sam took up his meaning. “Robert’s grandmother, your great-grandmother, was the daughter of Aegon V. It’s the most recent marriage of a Targaryen to a noble family, other than Rhaegar to Elia Martel…or….Rhaegar to Lyanna Stark.”

“Wouldn’t that technically make him Queen Daenerys’ heir no matter what, since she legitimized him?” asked Yara. 

“Well, I suppose it would, if we’re excluding Jon. There were one or two other Targaryen-Baratheon marriages, as I recall. And of course, Orys Baratheon was Aegon the Conqueror’s bastard brother. You could say that House Baratheon is a cadet branch of House Targaryen.” 

“So, he is her heir. Almost seems pointless to vote,” Yara said.

“Well, except, the point is he’s not inheriting,” Sam replied, “but if that’s the reason you have for your vote – “

“Whatever,” Yara interrupted, “we need to get this over with.”

Gendry sat back a bit, his mouth slightly agape as if he wanted to ask more but was not sure where to start. Arya realized that Gendry probably knew very little of his House’s history. His line extended back into the Age of Heroes, to the Storm Kings of House Durrandon, which myth said began with the marriage of a goddess to a mortal man. How overwhelming this must be, she thought, for him to know that all those around him probably knew more about his ancestry than he. She wanted to tell him those stories, some of which her favorites from childhood, but she pushed the idea away. It might change her resolve to think of such little moments they could have if she…

“House Martell has not in the past had any great love for House Baratheon, but mainly we had issue with the Lannisters. If our Queen approved of him and he has the blood of the Targaryens …,” the Prince of Dorne trailed off.

“Jon approved of him,” Sansa added, and Arya knew this was true in more ways than Sansa realized. At the dawn after the end of the Long Night, Jon had seen Arya and Gendry embrace and kiss, and had given them a small smile. Jon would have been happy for us, if…she pushed the painful thought from her mind. 

Gendry slowly looked back and forth at the assembled lords. He must be hoping, she thought, he’d see someone that disagreed with what was happening, that would end this and let him be. But there was no one, as everyone in the council was nodding their heads. They would need to vote, but…

She could tell it was taking Gendry a considerable effort to remain calm, though his face was stony and serious. This is torture to him, and he knows what torture really is, she thought. She could only imagine what turmoil was going through his mind.

“I….uh….”, was all Gendry could respond. Ser Davos put a reassuring hand on Gendry’s shoulder and whispered something to him that Arya could not hear. Gendry turned to Arya and met her eyes, his face momentarily sad before it returned to stone.

“I’m not sure I can do this”, he finally spoke, quietly, still looking at Arya. She gave him a small smile, and mouthed “you can” to him. Betrayal crept back into his face and he turned away from her again. I’m sorry, she wanted to say.

“Lord Baratheon,” Tyrion asked, “would you consent to be our king and promise to rule the Seven Kingdoms with honor, kindness and magnanimity, and to work towards the benefit of the people and the peace of this realm?”

Gendry was staring ahead, blinking his eyes rapidly. He seemed lost in thought, considering the weight of what was being asked of him. There had always been some self-doubt in him, a feeling of inferiority because of his lowborn status. It came from feeling he never belonged, that he had no real place outside of the forge. He shouldn’t doubt himself. He was a greater man than he knew. 

Davos whispered something to him again, but he said nothing. 

“Gendry.”

Everyone looked at Arya, all but Bran confused by the familiarity of calling him by his name. Gendry turned to look at her a third time, and again her eyes met with his. She gave him another smile and nodded her head. He frowned at her sadly and turned back forward to face Tyrion. All looked to him again, as he took a breath and closed his eyes.

“I will”, he finally said, and it was with far more confidence than Arya had expected, given the emotions that had played on his face just before. There was fear still there, but also resolution. He wore the expression of king, she thought, a mask that he would have to use well from now on. Gods be good to him.

“We should vote then”, the lord sitting next to Edmure said. 

“Do we agree”, Tyrion began, “that Gendry of House Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, should be named King of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm?”

Sam gave the first “aye” and they went around, all agreeing. Everyone but Gendry stood. 

“All hail King Gendry the Armorer, of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Tyrion pronounced. 

“All Hail King Gendry” they resounded. Gendry exhaled and continued to stare straight ahead, now lost in revelry of pride, apprehension and shock.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just continuing with why Gendry would fit the criteria the council established, and so be more acceptable to all of those involved, Yara in particular. 
> 
> I know a lot of people assume that Jon had no idea Gendry knew Arya, but I think Gendry would have told him. 
> 
> I wanted to give Gendry an epithet because the show made it a point of giving Bran one. The Armorer seemed appropriate.


	5. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Jon and Tyrion is determined.

“We still must decide what to do with Jon Snow and you, traitor”, Grey Worm spat impatiently towards Tyrion.

Arguments went back and forth, with the Prince of Dorne, Yara and Grey Worm, still wanting Jon Snow dead. Tyrion put forth sending Jon to the Night’s Watch. It had always been a possible punishment for any crime in the Seven Kingdoms, and should continue to do so. Only Grey Worm was dissatisfied with this. 

“Sending him to his homeland is no punishment. He must die, or there will be war,” he shouted to the council. There was no doubt he would carry out his threat.

“If you kill our brother,” Arya threatened, with deadly cool, “there will be war.”

“His punishment must be the same as his crime!”

“That’s not really for you to decide”. Gendry had been silent, but obviously listening to everyone around him. He had been so quiet and still, though, until he spoke, Arya wondered if he was even aware of where he was or what was happening. He had been staring, but now turned his head towards Grey Worm.

Grey Worm gave Gendry a cutting look. “And it is just for you to decide?” 

“Aye, I think it is. You followed Daenerys and I’m her heir. I will sentence Jon, not you. He will go to the Wall.”

“It is not enough”, Grey Worm continued. “There needs to be justice.”

Gendry finally stood and walked towards Grey Worm, menacingly, which made Arya nervous. Gendry was strong and a fighter, but Grey Worm was Unsullied. It would not be a fair contest.

“Justice? You really think there’s justice to be had in this? I lived in King’s Landing most of my life, I was born here. Everywhere I lived or worked or ate is gone. I had friends still here I will never see again. Thousands of innocents are dead. You look at that destruction and tell me where the justice is?” 

Gendry’s anger was palpable, and Arya thought of the words of House Baratheon, “Ours is the Fury”. The rest of the council exchanged startled looks. They must fear their new king brash, Arya thought. But they must also like the fact that he was not someone that would let others roll him over.

“Our Queen liberated the people of this city, just as she did the slaves of Meereen, Astapor and Yunkai”, Grey Worm sneered.

“Did she burn down those cities? Did she kill women and children? Did she let her fucking armies rape and pillage there?” Grey Worm was silent at that, but still scowled at Gendry.

“The Queen may have brought freedom in your lands," Gendry continued, "but she brought death here. Death is not freedom. You've seen death, you know what it is.”

Grey Worm pinched his face; he looked pained and sad, Gendry’s words striking somewhere deep in the man’s heart. Gendry’s words even surprised Arya. He’d never been good with them, she’d always thought, but perhaps it was just with her.

“Fine”, Grey Worm said flatly, but added, gesturing towards Tyrion, “but what about this one?” 

“Yeah, well, I think might need him, so I’m not letting you execute him. I’ll make sure he’s miserable working to rebuild the city.”

Tyrion snorted at that. “Continuing to serve the Crown is probably the worst punishment for myself I could imagine.”

Both Grey Worm and Gendry looked at each other silently. Gendry put his arm out, and Grey Worm grasped it. 

“There’s going to be a lot of work, rebuilding, all over Westeros,” Gendry offered, “Your people can stay here.” Many on the council passed frowns to each other. 

“Your Grace,“ Lord Edmure drawled, condescendingly yet again, “That is not a wis –“

“Piss off, it’s not your decision.” Gendry looked at Edmure, scowling, and there were a few chuckles. Edmure seemed decently chastened, no doubt thinking of the fact that his new king was known to be a fighter and he was not. 

“And don’t fucking call me that.” Arya couldn’t help but smirk. I bet he understands better now. 

Gendry turned back to Grey Worm, “You can take some time.”

“No,” Grey Worm said, “This place is not for us. We have already decided we will go back to Essos, to Naath.”

Gendry nodded. “You wanna let him loose?” He nodded towards Tyrion, and Grey Worm unlocked Tyrion’s chains. Then he turned and marched his Unsullied out of the Dragon Pit. 

Arya smiled, as did, she noticed, Davos, Brienne, and Bran. That had gone well, and she could tell from the impressed looks of most of the other lords, they also agreed. And Jon was safe. 

She looked back at Gendry as he sat down. His stony, serious mask was off now and his eyes were wide, expectant, shocked. “What the fuck did I just do?” he mumbled. Davos whispered something to him, and Gendry let out a short chuckle. Gendry's first act as king had gone well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read that it's cannon that Gendry wanted Jon punished/executed for killing Dany because she legitimized him, but that makes no sense. No way would he look past what she did to King's Landing. He'd understand why Jon killed Dany.


	6. Next Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With that, the council began to disband. Arya stood to leave, and Sansa went to wheel Bran out, but Bran looked towards Arya. “Wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all those following this and for all the comments I've gotten! So glad people are enjoying it!

Tyrion stepped towards Gendry. “The first thing we will need to do is pick your small council, starting with your Hand.”

“Don’t those usually die?” Arya knew what he was thinking. When the Gold Cloaks had come looking for Gendry, he’d told her how her father and Jon Arryn had come to speak with him, before their murders. It was the reason she told him who she was, because he had met her father, though she never understood why that had mattered to her. Thinking he was responsible for their deaths had weighed on Gendry, probably more so now that he knows his Baratheon looks were what gave up Cersei’s secret. 

Davos chuckled. “Well, both Lord Tyrion and I have served as Hands, and somehow we’re still breathing.”

Gendry gave a wry smile and Davos turned to the rest of the group. “I think it would be good for his grace, Lord Tyrion and I to have a few moments together to discuss his next steps. We can meet again this evening to determine who will be on the small council.”

With that, the council began to disband. Arya stood to leave, and Sansa went to wheel Bran out, but Bran looked towards Arya. “Wait.” 

She eyed him. His face was as impassive as ever. “There’s much for you to decide, and soon. I hope you make wise choices.”

She nodded at him, and exchanged a confused look with Sansa. They turned to go, leaving Gendry, Tyrion and Davos the last ones sitting. 

Arya was halfway across the Dragon Pit, when she turned back to look at Gendry. For some reason she couldn't quite understand, she felt the need to speak to him alone. Gendry was sitting leaning forward, his elbows on his legs. He looked terrified, the stony mask gone now there weren’t as many around to see him. It hurt Arya, seeing him this way. He was so good, one of the few truly good people she had ever known. Like Jon, or Robb, or Father, she thought. But Father and Robb had died and Jon had suffered and lost. She didn’t want to think about what that meant for Gendry. He didn’t deserve to be so burdened, and yet it was precisely because he was so good that he was the only one who might actually be able to lead a change, to break the wheel. 

Sansa stopped when Arya did, and looked at Arya questioningly. She would have to tell Sansa about her and Gendry. “Go on, I’ll meet with you and Bran later.” Sansa nodded and turned to push Bran out the Dragon Pit. 

Arya walked back towards the meeting tents. Gendry sat, now leaning forward with his elbows on legs. Davos and Tyrion stood before him, speaking to him. Arya stopped a few feet from them. 

“There will no doubt be opposition, especially from the richer houses,” Tyrion was saying, “but I think we can reasonably say you have quite a few strong allies in your corner. The Iron Islands and Dorne look to be happy with you, and they would be biggest problem. The North fully supports you, and since Sansa is kin to Lord Tully and Lord Arryn, the Riverlands and the Vale will follow.”

“Lord Tully didn’t seem particular happy”, Gendry smiled sardonically. 

“Yes, well, thankfully his niece is a more forceful personality than he,” Davos replied with a grin. “He’ll do as she wants.”

“Lady … or Queen Sansa, will be a force to be reckoned with,” Tyrion said. They all chuckled. After a beat, Gendry went on.

“I don’t even know what positions are supposed to be on the small council. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at a map of all of Westeros. I can barely even re…..How the fuck am I supposed to do this?” 

“You’ve made a good start. Truly, you did,” Davos reassured him. “And I learned to read as an old man. You’re not even half my age, you’ll get there quicker than I.” Arya could tell Gendry was still unsure. “You know who taught me to read? Your cousin, the Princess Shireen. She was good and would have made a great queen. I see some of you in her.” 

“You’ll have to tell me more about her sometime.” Gendry smiled, and then frowned, considering something.

“I saw carts selling water near the refugee camps. The prices are too high, most people won’t be able to afford that. The food sellers, too. Is….is there something we can do about that?”

Davos and Tyrion both grinned at that. “There certainly is, and we can discuss it more tomorrow, after we pick your small council this evening, your grace,“ Tyrion answered. 

“Please don’t call me that.” 

“You’re going to have to get used it…your grace. We should get going,” Davos said. He and Tyrion turned to go, when both finally noticed Arya. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here, Lady Arya,” Tyrion said. 

“She’s not a lady,” Gendry murmured, bitterly. Davos and Tyrion exchanged glances at that and looked at Arya. She expected some bitterness, but his words stung, more so since they were said in front of others who were smart enough to understand. Likely Davos even knew. 

She put on her emotionless mask and simply said, “I need to speak with Gendry alone.” He was now looking directly at her, his own mask on. He would never be as good at it as she, though, and she saw his hurt and bitterness, his anger and sadness, writ into his blue eyes. 

“We’ll wait for you outside the Dragon Pit, your grace,” Davos said, and he and Tyrion walked away.


	7. What Davos Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion gets some information from Davos.

“What can you tell me about that?” Tyrion asked Davos once they were just outside of the Pit. They stood where they could still see Gendry and Arya but could not be seen themselves.

“Nothing particularly good, I’m afraid,” said Davos.

“That’s unfortunate. Given how she was looking at him and spoke his name, it reminded me of what you said when we got to Winterfell. ‘What if the realm was ruled by a just queen and an honorable king.’ I don’t know either well, but they both seem to have those traits. At the very least, she’d be a queen to be reckoned with, like her sister.”

“Aye, a rather wild one, and I’m sure his grace would be amenable, but I don’t think she would.”

“What do you know?”

“That they’ve known each since the day Eddard Stark was beheaded.“ 

Tyrion’s eyes widened. “They would have been not much more than children”.

Davos nodded. “They spent some of the War of the Five Kings together wandering around the Riverlands, trying to head north to her people. I think he said they were at Harranhal for a while. She saved his life more than once, and he kept her secret and watched over her. Made sure she didn’t do something stupid. After a while, they were separated and didn’t see each other again until he came to Winterfell.”

“Seems an interesting story,” Tyrion mused, “if not a happy one.”

“Aye. Seems they….reconnected rather quickly. They….spent the hours before the Long Night together.” Davos gave Tyrion a look. 

“I see…”

“Well, after the Dragon Queen legitimized him and made him a lord, seems he got it in his head it was a good time to propose.”

“After one night? She must be Podrick in female form.” 

“Well he certainly didn’t tell me any details, but apparently there were a few nights after the battle and before the feast. The choice to make the proposal seems to have been influenced by copious amounts of wine. Then her answer was followed by copious amounts of wine. I found him sometime after in the forge, banging on some poor sword until it was useless, drinking from a rather large wine skin, and cursing himself over and over.”

“Oh dear, poor lad. I understand him completely,” Tyrion said sadly.

“They have not spoken since. I’m very surprised it was she who put his name forward. I know everyone was thinking it, but you’d think she’d want to stay out of it.”

“Well, she must think well of him in some way. And she’s talking to him, so perhaps there’s some ho-“

Across the Dragon Pit, Davos and Tyrion heard Gendry and Arya shouting at each other, his fury meeting her rage in equal measure. They were both standing, facing each other, the new king with his back to them. Curses flew back and forth, though Davos and Tyrion could not make much out of it.

“Or perhaps not…” Tyrion said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter was a bit of a tease. I actually wrote it after I wrote the first chapter, intending on more POVs for this fic, but the rest of the story worked best from just Arya's POV. I liked the chapter a lot, so I didn't want to remove it. 
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a long one with Arya and Gendry talking. Still editing it, though, so might be a few days. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments!!


	8. A Winter Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry actually have a real conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, sorry.

Arya watched Davos and Tyrion turn a corner and go out of sight. She assumed, though, that they were still close and observing her and Gendry. It irritated her, but she couldn’t blame them. That was their duty.

She turned back to Gendry and met his cool gaze, his stony mask set. How different he is from just three months before, and Arya couldn’t help the guilt rise up in her that she was the one that forced him to have this mask. She thought about their very first night together and how he had looked at her when she straddled him, awestruck and confused, not afraid to hide his adoration. It had hurt at first, but he was gentle and slow with her, despite how little time they had. Simply being so close to him was what she had enjoyed the most. Just watching him breathe, hearing his heartbeat and his moans, feeling his rough but tender hands over her body.

She thought about the night after the battle. It was hurried and desperate, as if they had to prove to themselves that the other was real and not just a dream. The rest were more passionate and longer lasting, taking their time to explore each other’s bodies. They barely spoke afterwards as she simply couldn’t after all that had happened. She just wanted him to hold her, and sleep in his arms like a little child.

Every part of their lovemaking had been sweet and wonderful, but even so, she was unsettled by it all. He made her feel vulnerable, and she could not have that. There was something she still had to do, a name still on her list, she knew at the time, and she couldn’t let herself be swayed by Gendry’s love to change her mind. He had looked at her then like she was a goddess and he was meant to worship her, and she did not deserve his worship. Not anymore.

“The Red Woman predicted this, you know. Like she predicted I’d kill the Night King,” Array said. “You’d make kings rise and fall. I don’t think she knew you’d be the king that would rise.” 

“What do you want, Arya?” he said, the bitterness gone, but replaced by something Arya could not place. She regretted bringing up the Red Woman. “Goin’ suggest I be made an emperor next?” He was trying for humor, but there were too many other emotions in him for his words to be light enough for him to tease her like they once did.

“I only said what everyone was thinking.” She sat down beside him and noticed his body tense, but he did not move.

“I doubt that.”

“They were. There was no other option. Tyrion Lannister suggesting Bran was ludicrous. Bran is….I don’t know what Bran is, but he can’t rule anything.”

“Just the illiterate, bastard blacksmith.” He was trying for humor again, still not working.

“I think Bran knew, too.”

“That I’m an illiterate, bastard blacksmith? I’m pretty sure everyone knew that.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Trying to make jokes. I can see through it.” He looked away from her and sighed, annoyed. Like the mask of stone he had worn earlier, the humor was a mask as well. It bothered him that it hadn’t worked. 

“What did Bran know?” He finally said, leaning over and resting his elbows on his legs.

“That this would happen. That we would choose you. He said you looked like your father on the day he became king.”

Gendry scoffed. “So, I’m like the drunken whoremonger who just happened to father me? That’s reassuring.” 

“Gendry, stop it.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Arya.” He shifted his body towards her, but leaned back slightly, pulling himself away from her. “What are going to do next to make me feel like shit?”

Her eyes narrowed at him, angry, not at him, but herself. Why was she here? She’d done too much to hurt him. I should have died during the Long Night, she thought. She had no right to live while others died. People that hadn’t done dark things to survive, people better than her. It would have been better for him if she had died that night, then he could at least have a good memory of her. The thought made her angrier, and since he was there, acting like an asshole, he made an easy target.

“I just wanted to thank you for saving Jon,” she said, venomously. 

“Well, I didn’t do it for you, but fine, your welcome, is that all?” They looked directly at each other. His face was stony, but looking into his blue eyes, she could see was nothing but sadness. And love. She wished he hated her.

“Jon’s a good man,” he continued, looking away, but now calmer, as she watched him try to push the sadness from his eyes. “He did what he had to. When I went down there, trying to find…” He stopped and looked in the distance. She nodded, trying not to think of all she had seen that day. She should have died then, too.

They were quiet for a moment, both thinking of the many horrors they had seen through the years, many of those horrors shared. Part of her wished to tell him about the ones which were just hers, ask him about his. But that would be weakness, for them both, and she was too broken to see it any other way. And he needed to be strong now. 

“Anyways,” Gendry started, “I guess I can give him a pardon eventually. Maybe when Yara Greyjoy cools down, and that Prince of Dorne….fuck, I should probably learn his name. Jon won’t have to stay at the Wall, he’ll be able to go anywhere. You all can go home, to Winterfell, be a…be a family.” He looked uncomfortable at those last words. He probably only realized as he was saying it how charged they would be for them both, she thought. Neither would want to be reminded of the rejections they had both given each other, though under very different circumstances. 

“I’m….,” she paused. How much should she tell him? He wouldn’t react well. 

“What?” he asked.

“I’m not going back to Winterfell.” 

Confused, he looked at her incredulously. “What? Why? That’s always what you wanted. Where else are you going to go?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to sail West of Westeros.” 

He started laughing but stopped once he saw her expression of annoyance. She wouldn’t lie about that. He frowned, anger returning. 

“Are you fucking serious? You have a death wish?”

That stung, but…she had to admit, a large part of her wanted to die. She had resigned herself to it long ago, had known she deserved it, and had wondered why the Many-Faced God hadn’t given his gift to her yet. “Yes, I’m serious and it’s not a death wish,” she lied, “No one knows what’s - “

“No one knows because no one has ever returned!” he yelled, growing more furious by the moment. “People have tried, many fucking times! Either the ship is never seen again, or it has to return after months at sea.”

“How the fuck would know anything like that?” She wanted to provoke him with this, hoping he’d feel insulted about his lack of education, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“I lived in a fucking port most of my life, Arya, tales go around. Ask any sailor, ask a maester, fuck, go ask Davos! What the in seven hells are you thinking?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She knew it was a possibility that she’d never return, that she would die there. She expected to die there. But at least there would freedom until she did. 

“I want to know what’s there,” she finally said, not sure what else to say to him. 

“Have you told your family? Do they know you’re going to do this stupid thing, try to get yourself killed on a sea that has no end?” 

“I’m not trying to get myself killed! And no, I haven’t told them.” 

“Bloody hell. Why? Why would you do this to them? Do the people that love just not mean anything to you? Why do you have to be so fucking cruel to those that care about you more than anything?”

“Oh fuck off,” she said standing. She was done, enraged now, and she still wasn’t entirely sure why she had stayed to speak with him anyway. It would have been better off if she’d never spoken to him again. 

As she turned away to walk away, he grabbed her arm, stood and moved in front of her to block her path. “Let go of me!” she shouted at him.

“I’m not letting you fucking leave!”

“Like hell you are!”

“It’s fucking suicide, Arya! I can’t let you do that!”

“Getting used to that royal power? What’s it been an hour?! Need to show off how much control you now have?!” she yelled icily, honestly surprised by how forceful he was being. She had expected him to get flustered and fumble his words. She didn’t want to admit to herself, she liked it. A lot. But that was another feeling she had to push down.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

“That’s what this is about isn’t?”

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” 

“You know what I’m talking about!”

He stared at her a moment angry and confused. His face changed when it dawned on him, and she knew he understood. “Are you kidding me? That’s not ….That has nothing…..” Arya felt glad the flustered Gendry had returned, giving her the upper hand, but she wasn’t expecting his next words. 

“Fucking hell, Arya, you said no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you or I want to see something bad happen to you!” 

He still loves me, she thought, fighting back the trembling starting in her chest. She stared at him, wide eyed. She wanted him to hate her, to forget her, to find someone more worthy of him. 

She shook her head, and said quietly, “You don’t love me.” Her face had begun to show the sadness and anger and fear that she was feeling now, so she tried putting her mask back on. 

“I think I know how I feel better than you,” he sighed. “I…I’ve loved you nearly the entire time I’ve known you. You...for most of my life….you’re the…the only person I had that actually gave a damn about me, and I loved you for it. Not like I love you now….but…..You were the only family I have ever known and I thought you wanted that, too. We couldn’t have had that then, but we….” he trailed off, and looked away from her. 

Her eyes widened and she felt a pang in her heart remembering what she had once said to him. She wanted to put her arms around him now, and say it again, “I can be your family”, but that’s not how this needed to go. She wasn’t sure where she wanted it to go, but it couldn’t be to that. She needed to win this, so she said, “If you loved me, you would know me, but you asked me to be – “

“Oh, for shit’s sake, Arya. I was drunk and didn’t think my words through, but do you really think I’d expect you to wear dresses and sew and take tea and whatever the fuck you think it is ladies are required to do? We’ve spent so long apart, and we’re both different now, but I know that would never change about you.” He paused and looked away, shaking his head, before turning to her again. “I love you because you don’t do that shit. I love you because you’re fearless, you’re strong, you can … take down men three times your size – “

He listed more reasons he loved her, but she wasn’t listening because it took all her training, all her strength to keep herself from crying. At the time, she had told herself, she turned him down because she couldn’t be what he wanted, but she knew he wanted her as she is. Even if she was all those things, and she knew he felt that way, it still wasn’t enough. She wasn’t worthy of him. She was broken, pained, lost, more so now than when she had returned to Winterfell. 

“Gendry”, she finally stopped him, because it hurt too much to listen to how much he adored her. He looked at her with eyes watery, imploring her to understand how much he loved her. “I’m…I’m not worthy of you Gendry.“ He looked confused, so she went on. “You are good and kind and I’m not. I’m not a good person, I’ve done things, I’ve seen things…. I’m broken.”

“Arya….you’re not the only person who - ” He reached out for her, but she, defensively, tensed and stepped back. 

“You deserve someone better, someone that’s not scarred from everything…..I should be dead now. There are so many people who died, at Winterfell, at King’s Landing, and I should have been one… Find someone that doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Arya…you…you don’t deserve to die….Gods, what do you think you’ve done that you should be dead?”

She didn’t know what to say. She wondered if he’d still love her if he knew the things she’s done. He probably would….

“Gendry…just….this is why I need to leave. You have a chance to make things better. Find someone to do that with you.” 

He took her in his arms and held tight, pressing his lips to hers. It felt sweet and she felt so safe with him. Memories came back of nights wandering the Riverlands, when she cuddled up next to him, to be warm, she had told him, but really, because she was scared and he made her feel safe. She wanted to stay in his embrace forever, but ….

She pulled back and looked at him sadly. “Gendry…”

“I want to do this with you. No one else. I love you and nothing will change that.” He was telling the truth, she knew. “Kill, maim, bake a man in a pie, I don’t care.” That made her smile, despite herself. “Just…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want, just live with me and help me. I need you, and you need me.” He took a step back, confusion and hope across his face; he hadn’t meant to say all that.

His words reminded her of what Sandor had said to her, the last time they spoke. To live. Running was not living, and she could no longer deny to herself that was what she was doing. It was just being another version of the Hound.

“I love you, too,” she whispered and moved towards him. Leaning in, they kissed again, longer, deeper, growing me intense by the second. She needed him. She needed him more than anything. 

Their lips parted and they touched foreheads. She looked into his eyes and raised her eyebrows. He laughed at that, and took her hand, leading her out of the Dragon Pit, away from where everyone else had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to sum it up - thanks for all the thanks and kudos!


	9. Advisors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos and Tyrion are concerned.

After several minutes of Tyrion and Davos becoming increasingly concerned that one of the lovers would not leave the Dragon Pit alive, the two became quiet and then the tension between them seemed to have passed. Finally, Gendry rushed forward and kissed Arya slowly. She pushed back but he held her and kissed her once more; this time she did not pull away. 

When Davos and Tyrion had reached their limits of being comfortably watching this, Gendry took Arya’s hand and led her towards the other exit of the Dragon Pit, where they disappeared. 

“I hope we’re not going to be treated to these…’winter storms’ on a regular basis,” Tyrion quipped.

“So do I,” Davos answered emphatically.

Tyrion and Davos waited, becoming increasingly impatient, for well over an hour.

“Seven hells, what is taking them so long?” Davos said. Tyrion gave him a knowing look, one eyebrow raised. “Aye, but this long?”

“Well, he is Robert Baratheon’s son.”

“He’s no whoremonger like Robert.”

“He may not be, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t inherit Robert’s…..vigor.”

Davos chuckled at that. “They’re both young, I suppose.”

“Do you think this will be a problem?”

“Hard to say. Somehow, I think it will entirely depend upon her. That said, I know there will still be some that question whether he even is Robert’s son. A marriage with House Stark would certainly lend credibility, given the history of the two houses.”

“True, but then again, there might be some who think the Starks have too much power now, given the family connections. Either way, we’ll need to let them know they have to make some decisions sooner rather than later.” 

“Let’s hope they already have.” Davos nodded towards the other end of the Dragon Pit, where Gendry and Arya finally emerged. Gendry was tying his jerkin, and Arya was pulling her hair back into a bun. Both looked flush, and Gendry somehow seemed taller.

As they neared Tyrion and Davos, the couple’s conversation could be heard, their voices serious and quiet.

“You should ask Ser Brienne to be the Lord Commander. There’s no one better,” Arya was saying. 

“Your sister only sent her to work with me for a few months,” Gendry answered, “I doubt she’d be happy to completely lose Brienne. Probably not a good idea to make my biggest ally unhappy”.

“The Tarths are your bannermen, and she was Kingsguard to your uncle Renly. She should be Kingsguard to you. I think Sansa will understand, but I’ll speak to her first. Probably should ask Podrick to be Kingsguards, too, he’s a good swordsman.”

“I like him. If they really have to follow me around all the time, probably be good to have someone I like.”

Finally approaching Davos and Tyrion, the couple paused on seeing the irritated frowns on the two advisors. 

“Your Grace,” Davos drawled. “We were getting worried you might have decided to run off and abandon your crown so shortly after you got it. I trust that this is all out both of your systems, then.”

Gendry reddened, a bit chagrinned at that, but Arya’s face remained flat. They walked past Davos and Tyrion, who looked at each other and turned to follow. 

“Arya was, um,” Gendry swallowed, flustered, “showing me positions…I mean, telling about positions. On the small council, I mean.” He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. “She suggested going to the Iron Bank for a master of coin. She has a contact in Braavos.” 

“How?” Tyrion asked, not sure what to make of that. 

“Don’t ask,” Arya said stiffly. “The Crown almost certainly has debt and I’m betting Cersei added to it. The Golden Company is … was expensive. That won’t go away with Cersei dead. The Iron Bank will be more likely to accept low repayments if they have one of their own looking after our finances.”

“Our finances….,” Davos said raising his eyebrows. 

Ignoring Davos, Arya continued, “Sansa told me that you, Lord Tyrion, were master of coin for a bit under Joffrey. Can you take that on until we get someone from the Iron Bank? Master of whispers after, I think, but we’ll discuss it in council.” 

Before either Tyrion or Davos could speak, Gendry added, “We need someone looking to make sure tradesmen aren’t messing with their own goods or raising prices too bloody high. I’ve seen some shit steel trying to be sold off as high quality, and idiots will pay. Merchants change their scales all the time. Arya said we don’t have someone that does that but - ”

“Forgive me, your Grace, but before we can continue along that line,” Davos said, “perhaps we can discuss how to announce your ascension.”

“My what?” Gendry asked. 

“It means becoming king,” Arya said. “What about it, Ser Davos?”

“Well, I was wondering if we would also be announcing, oh, anything else.” The couple stopped and turned to Davos. Gendry looked confused, and Arya creased her brow. “Seeing as we’re already sending out the ravens.” 

“What else would we be announcing?” Gendry asked. He looked at Arya, questioningly. Arya rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got to stop being so stupid,” Arya said to him before turning to Davos and Tyrion. “You’re going to have to spell some things out to him sometimes.” She paused for a moment, frowning. “And we’ll see.” 

Gendry still looked confused and opened his mouth to say something. “Don’t,” Arya interrupted him before he could. They continued walking.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I can’t ask a question?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s no way to speak to your king.”

“Idiot.”

“It’s your grace, now. Need to speak to me proper.” 

“Properly.” Arya scowled at Gendry a moment, but he smirked back at her. 

Tyrion and Davos paused and watched Arya and Gendry continue walking, bickering as they went. They looked at each other, incredulously. 

“Somehow, I think we’re going to have to get used to these winter storms,” Davos said to Tyrion, after Arya and Gendry were sufficiently far ahead of them.

“It would appear so.” Tyrion replied. After thinking a moment, he continued, “You know, history always repeat itself, and these two are the perfect example.”

“How so?”

“Robert Baratheon loved Lyanna Stark, and started a war for her. His son now loves her niece. Lady Arya resembles her aunt, and our new king, his father. At least in looks. What lengths might this Baratheon go to for his Stark?”

“Well, let’s just hope this has a happier ending than last time. At least this time, they are both in love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for the comments! I'm glad so many enjoyed this!
> 
> I've debated going forward with this, but I'm not sure at this point. If you all want to read a good "Gendry becomes king" fic, check out "The King and the Master of War" by obsessivewriter - I've been really loving that one!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fan fic. Bran ending up king made absolutely no sense to me (and to a few others, because I've seen other fanfics with this idea.) Anyways, I hope you like it! Please ignore any formatting issues, I'm not too familiar with HTML.


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